


The Monster on the Radio

by daftalchemist



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Gore, I apologize for nothing, Lots of Angst, M/M, Monster!Cecil, More angst, No happy endings, Violence, all of the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftalchemist/pseuds/daftalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is a horrible multi-dimensional monster who only wants to be loved by the most perfect man in town</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic prompt from soupengine. Cecil headcanon I'm working with is a slightly more scary version of saltysalmonella's blob!Cecil
> 
> Beta thanks to sub3rduck (on Tumblr)

The problem with being a mostly amorphous entity from a dimension of sheer chaos wasn’t having a body that was constantly in flux. It wasn’t that the parts of the body that remained solid for any length of time were horrific. It wasn’t even that the mental strain required to sustain those horrific parts was often enough to induce a state of brief madness. The _real_ problem with being a mostly amorphous entity from a dimension of sheer chaos was never having a chance with such a gorgeous and perfect and _human_ scientist as Carlos.

It was enough to drive Cecil to tears, if he had any tears to weep, or tear ducts to weep them from. He’d walked into Cecil’s life so many months ago, immediately becoming the center of it, and he didn’t even know Cecil existed. Or rather, he didn’t know the _nature_ of Cecil’s existence, because Cecil couldn’t risk such a perfect being seeing his hideous form; all eyes and morphing limbs, gaping maws and liquid shadows. He’d blended into the dark corners of the room, watching this perfect specimen of a man talk, smile, exist. He was so new, so pure. He’d never seen the kind of horrors the world could contain, and Cecil had hoped he never would, despite the incredible ache he felt to talk to the man.

So Cecil hid away in his sound booth, and he talked about Carlos. About his teeth and his hair and his science. His clothes and his intelligence. And Cecil hoped that Carlos heard his words, drifting from a radio somewhere in his lab, or perhaps his own home. That Carlos would hear him and know that he cared for him so much, even though he didn’t even know who Cecil was. He never had a chance to know, because he never had a chance to meet him, and he probably never would. “Interns”, Cecil called them; the people that went out and did his research for him, talked to the citizens for him, little more than meat puppets, and Cecil held the strings. He talked through them, saw the world through them, went openly in public through them as he hid in the shadows and observed, and that’s how he liked it. Sure, the puppets often died, but they were never meant to last, and that was also how he liked it.

Until that night, one year later. One year after true happiness had came into his life, twenty minutes after it had been snuffed out in a fit of misguided bravery, fifteen minutes after it had reawakened with renewed purpose, and ten minutes after it came looking for him, Cecil found that there was an intern that he wanted to keep alive. It was an average looking intern, but Carlos liked it, and that was what mattered most. For a while.

The dates were all fine, of course. Carlos was nervous, but so was Cecil. He’d never done something like this before, had someone date one of his puppets. He didn’t mind so much, really. They could talk for hours, and it was wonderful, but then it wasn’t enough. The intern was the one to receive his kisses, hold his hand, and Cecil felt nothing. He could only watch from the shadows and wish it was _him_ being given affection, that Carlos would see his true self and know him and kiss him. As though there would _ever_ be a possibility of that happening.

The intern whimpered the first time Carlos deepened a kiss, though it was only because Cecil felt so jealous of the attention he received. He thrashed and wailed the first time Carlos made love to him, but that was just the agony Cecil felt over not being able to touch the scientist so intimately. And when Carlos first said “I love you”, the intern wept, but not because Cecil was happy, rather because he realized Carlos didn’t love _him_ , and never would. He loved the _intern_ , and Cecil couldn’t stand to watch anymore. He sent the intern into Radon Canyon, never to be seen again, and stopped answering Carlos’ calls, never to deceive him again.

It was heartbreaking to see the number of voicemails he received, the numerous texts asking if Cecil was all right, was he upset, what had Carlos done wrong, would he please just _talk to him_. He wanted to, of course, but how could he ever break off such a hopeless romance if he continued talking to the object of his affection? He couldn’t see Carlos anymore; he didn’t have the intern, and he certainly couldn’t just use another one. The whole town already thought he was some sort of radio hermit who had come out of hiding for the love of his life. Pulling another puppet out of the close to pretend to be him would arouse _entirely_ too many suspicions about what exactly was going on inside the old Night Vale radio station.

Cecil had hoped that Carlos would just forget about him. That he’d go back to being a passive listener and move on with his life. But instead, Cecil heard reports that Carlos was going around town asking questions, trying to find him, and Cecil panicked. Asking questions was _never_ the right thing to do, and he realized that he couldn’t just abandon Carlos, because Carlos would get himself killed. He made the call.

The line rang for only half a second before it clicked and a desperate “ _hello?_ ” came through Cecil’s phone, and his form rippled in what he assumed was an approximation of tearing up for one of the humans he had been pretending to be.

“Carlos,” he said sadly, not really knowing what else to say. That he missed him? That he was so happy to hear his voice, no matter how panicked and upset it sounded? That he was a hideous shifting monstrosity who just wanted to be loved by a gorgeous-haired scientist, and perhaps Carlos could forgive his deception and consider moving in with him at the radio station? No, he had to tell him the truth: that he couldn’t see him anymore, and he couldn’t tell him why either.

Then he heard a soft sniffle and a loud exhale, and something inside Cecil’s form clenched.

“Carlos? Are you all right?” he asked.

Carlos chuckled softly and sighed in relief. “I just...thought you might have been taken away. I haven’t heard from you in...Cecil, why didn’t you return my calls?”

Cecil’s body shifted and stretched. This was becoming so much more difficult than he had wanted it to be. Carlos had been so worried, so kind and caring, thinking about him, wanting to know he was okay. And Cecil...he just _couldn’t_ break his heart. Not then, not after sounding so _happy_ just to hear Cecil say his name. He sighed and slumped against the floor, wishing he’d never used the intern to begin with. He deserved someone who loved him for _him_ , not the meat puppet he put on display.

“I’ve...been sick,” he said, the only believable lie he could think up. “I didn’t have the strength to talk.”

“For _two weeks_ ,” Carlos cried. “Oh my _god_ , are you okay?”

“I...I’m fine. I don’t want you to worry-”

“But I _am_ worried, Cecil,” Carlos shouted, though his voice was full of concern rather than anger. “Please...can I just see you? I just really need to see that you’re okay.”

The line went silent; Carlos waiting patiently for an answer that Cecil couldn’t come up with. He couldn’t see the intern, because the intern didn’t exist. He could see _Cecil_ , of course, but...he’d never _want_ to see Cecil, of course. He should just tell him they were done and hang up. Ask him not to call or text, not to ask about him around town. Ask him to move on somehow. But…

“Y-yeah,” Cecil stammered. “You can...you can see me. I’m at work though, so...you’ll have to come to the radio station, on the outside of town?”

The line remained silent for a moment longer before Carlos’ very confused voice came over the line. “ _That_ one? I thought it was abandoned. You don’t work at the one here in town?”

It was already turning out to be a terrible idea, but Cecil shoved that thought aside and pressed on. “My show’s not exactly...official. I set up my own equipment here.”

“That’s certainly strange,” Carlos said, and Cecil could hear in his voice that he was smiling. “But very impressive. Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

Cecil hung up and looked around a building that was very much, in fact, abandoned, though it wasn’t actually a radio station. It was his home, and he had no time to tidy up the dust-covered floors or the wooden beams that were crumbling from the ceiling before Carlos would be there, expecting the intern, and getting…

Oh god. This was a _terrible_ idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the meeting

The radio station had been built before the town had even existed, as though the people who had constructed it just _knew_ , and Cecil supposed they had. How a group of people who didn’t even have radio technology knew they’d need a radio station for a town that didn’t yet exist was something he never could understand, but there the station was, and there it had been when they’d ripped him through the void and deposited him in the little building. They’d needed a voice; a voice that could resonate into the very souls of the people that heard it, make them believe the unbelievable, comfort them when their lives were full of terror, and they were always full of terror. Cecil didn’t know why the people he spoke to had to live like that, and he probably never would, but it had been that way since the beginning, and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

The station stood abandoned now, the kind of place people said was haunted. Where gutsy young people would go to prove how fearless they were, and were never heard from again. Despite the well-known disappearances, people kept going to the old station, and Cecil kept a good supply of interns.

Unfortunately, Cecil’s problem was that it was so _obviously_ abandoned. Carlos was going to know something was wrong the moment he got to the parking lot. The asphalt had long been overtaken by particularly tough scrub, there were hardly any lights on in the place since there was hardly any residual energy left from Cecil’s forced exodus to power the building, and the building itself was in shambles. No sane person would broadcast a radio show from here because no sane person _could_. The equipment was all dead, choked with dust and rot, and it had been for the past four decades. Even if it wasn’t so far in disrepair, there were no wires, no cables or cords to plug into anything. Everything stood stacked up close to everything else, but they were all solitary entities with no connection between them, or even to the wall, and there never had been. Cecil didn’t need the microphone to work; he just needed his voice. Since the first town elders had handed people empty wooden boxes that they claimed would speak truths to them, Cecil needed only to talk into something shaped like a microphone to make his voice heard. No one had ever been able to change the station or turn off the show, and they never would.

Carlos was going to understand all of that the moment he walked in the door, and he was going to run and tell the whole town, and Cecil would be doomed.

This was a _terrible idea_ , but Carlos was already on his way, and there was no turning back. His car would be in the parking lot any minute, and he’d be walking in the front door, and wondering why Cecil was giving a radio broadcast in such a run-down dump, and…

“Cecil? Are...are you in here?”

And he was _already_ here. Cecil couldn’t even _imagine_ how many speeding laws he must’ve broken getting there so quickly, and there were a _lot_ of them.

He could hear Carlos’ footsteps echoing dully down the halls, muffled by so many years of dust, and Cecil _panicked_ , vaulting upwards to the shadows on the ceiling like he was so used to doing when someone came into his home because...well, what _else_ was he supposed to do? Meet him at the door? Carlos would take one look at him and leave! No...no, he had to lure him in farther and make escape a less simple option to take. He just needed _time_ to show Carlos that he was the same person he’d always been, just large and full of eyes and squirming bits and horrifying and this was a _terrible idea_.

“I’m...I’m down here,” he yelled, cringing at how shaken his voice sounded. “In my uh...sound booth.”

Cecil scurried along the ceiling and through the open door, immediately taking up residence in a new patch of shadow as he listened to Carlos’ footsteps grow ever closer. His entire form was shivering, warping out of his control in what he was certain was an approximation of a racing heart. Carlos was _here_ and was going to see him and talk to him, and hopefully, _hopefully_ , he wouldn’t scream and run. _Hopefully_ he would recognize the person he’d been speaking to all this time, the person he’d fallen in love with.

“Which room?” he asked, looking in each one by turn, very close now.

“This one, just here,” Cecil said from his shadowy roost. “Just...be careful. It’s dark in here.”

Carlos chuckled. “I think that’s an understatement.” Cecil could see the soft glow of a cell phone backlight on the floor in the hall. “How do you even _work_ like this?”

Cecil gripped the ceiling tighter. He was right _there_ ; he could just slip out the door _right now_ and see him face to face. “It’s...never been a problem for me. I don’t know. I’m...kind of busy...setting something up, so just come right in.”

And then there he was, right below Cecil, stepping almost cautiously into the room, shining the dim light from his phone around the dark corners, and Cecil’s breath caught in whatever part of him would be considered his throat. He was just so... _perfect_ , especially up close like this. Cecil just wanted to reach out and stroke that beautiful hair of his, but…

“Uh, Cecil?” Carlos asked, looking around in confusion. “Are you in here?”

He crowded further into his shadowy corner and tried to keep the gnawing worry he felt out of his voice. “Y-yeah, I am.”

Carlos looked around quickly and chuckled. “Okay, well...are you invisible then? Is that why you haven’t been feeling well?”

“What? N-no,” He slowly reached down and quietly shut the door. “I mean... _maybe_. In a way.”

“So you _are_ invisible, or…?” Carlos crossed his arms and and sighed. “Can you come out or not?”

He inched along the ceiling, edging along the frame of the closed door, huddling so tight in the corners, not knowing what else to do. “I...I can. I guess.”

“Well, I would _appreciate_ it,” he said with a huff, then hung his head. “I’ve missed you.”

Cecil’s form rippled uncomfortably at the sadness in his voice. He’d wanted Carlos to _forget_ him, not feel lost without him. “I...missed you too.”

Carlos laughed softly as he looked around once more. “Well, then _come ou_ t here so I can-” He paused as he turned towards the door, taking a step towards it. “When...did the door close?”

Cecil shuffled anxiously in his perch. “I...I just…”

Carlos glanced up towards his corner, at the moving shadows he no doubt saw, and inched backwards. “C-cecil? Where are you?”

It was happening. It was _finally_ happening. He was _finally_ going to meet Carlos face to face, and it was already going _exactly_ the way Cecil had always expected it to. He whined fearfully and slowly, so _very_ slowly, began to slip towards the floor.

“Please, don’t yell,” he insisted as his body slipped out of the shadows, pooling on the floor in front of the only exit. “Don’t go, and don’t...don’t scream. I just...I wanted to see you.”

He attempted to twist four of his lipless, sharp-toothed maws into smiles, but he was pretty sure it only made the sight of him even more horrific. Carlos was pressed up against the decrepit desk, staring fearfully at him as his breathing became more and more rapid by the second.

“Wh-what the _hell_ is-- _Cecil, where are you_?” he shouted, searching anxiously for a person that just didn’t exist.

Cecil slumped into himself. He’d hoped his voice would have been enough. That Carlos would hear him and see him and _know_ , and everything would be fine. Of course, things just couldn’t be that simple, could it? Not after a so much time spent living a difficult, lonesome existence. Not after springing such a horrifying shock on someone he’d deceived for months.

“Carlos,” he began, fidgeting nervously at the tentacles absorbing into and reforming from his body in restless waves. “I _am_ Cecil.”

He didn’t even realize Carlos had grabbed hold of a rotting floorboard until it splintered against one of his larger eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> understanding

Cecil screeched angrily as he recoiled in on himself, burying the injured eye and moving a new one to take its place. Carlos shouted in disgust and retreated a few paces, looking around urgently for a new weapon, and he found one. He brandished the splintered two-by-four and grunted angrily as he rushed to close the space between them, swinging it high over his head.

“ _Wait_!” Cecil bellowed, curling inwards defensively as he shielded himself with shuddering jellied limbs. “ _Please_ , stop!”

“What have you done with Cecil?” Carlos demanded, his voice on fire with the rage coursing through him. “ _Answer me_!”

“But,” Cecil whimpered and reached out slowly, just wanting to touch him, needing to connect in _some_ way so he could understand, “ _I’m_ Cecil. I _am_.”

Tears trickled down Carlos’ cheeks and his grip on the two-by-four faltered for just an instant before he brought the hunk of wood down in a swift arc and smashed it against Cecil’s body. “Stop _saying that_! You are _not him_!”

Cecil screeched in agony as something ruptured and thick purple liquid oozed out of him, sizzling against the floor and his own flesh.

“ _Why_?” he wailed, his body losing some of its solidity and puddling at Carlos’ feet. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you took him, or _killed_ him, or...I don’t even _know_ what,” Carlos shouted, chest heaving as he raised the wood over his head again. “But you did something to my boyfriend, and I want to know what the _hell_ it is!”

Cecil lashed out with a particularly thick tentacle and grabbed the two-by-four as it swung down at him a second time, tearing it from Carlos’ hands as he wrapped smaller tendrils around his arms to keep him from striking out again. He was horrifying; wild-eyed and and breathing frantically, and so ready to commit whatever act of violence he felt was necessary to find someone he’d already found.

“I didn’t do _anything_ to your boyfriend, Carlos,” Cecil sobbed, wrapping more limbs around the scientist. “Just...listen to my voice. You know it. You know _me_.”

Carlos tried to jerk his arms away, but Cecil had them wrapped tight, pulling him closer, trying to soothe him.

“I didn’t do anything to your boyfriend,” he continued, his form rippling anxiously, “because I _am_ your boyfriend.”

Carlos sniffled, tears flowing freely from his eyes. “No, that’s not true. My Cecil is...he’s handsome and _human_ and...and _you’re not him_!”

“That was an intern,” Cecil cooed, stroking Carlos’ cheek lovingly. “He was barely even a real person, let alone your...well, he wasn’t _me_. I just talked through him, like I talk through all of them.” He coiled around him in a soft embrace, humming contentedly as he wiped the tears from Carlos’ eyes. “But you still have me. And I’m really the one you loved all along anyway.”

“ _No_!” Carlos bellowed as he shoved Cecil away. “I don’t love you! I never did, and I never _would_! You’re terrible, you...you _tricked me_. This whole thing was a lie; _all of it_!”

“Carlos, _please_ ,” Cecil pleaded, reaching towards him, but Carlos flinched back. “I just...I wanted you to like me.”

“How could I ever like _you_?” Carlos sniffled, tears flowing steadily down down his cheeks. “You made me fall in love with something that wasn’t real, and then took it away! You...you’re a _monster_!”

Cecil’s form shuddered in uneven waves, and he coiled inward on himself with a whimper. “Please don’t say that.”

Carlos paced around the room, as though he was trying to find a way out. “How long have you been _doing_ this? Lying to the whole town? Poisoning their minds? Do they even know what you really are?”

“No! Of course not,” Cecil cried, his body tightening uncomfortably. Carlos was starting to scare him.

“So you just...you just lurk here and deceive them all into thinking their lives are normal?” Carlos shouted, turning on him in a rage. “They’re all in _danger_ , and you just keep them complacent! _Why_?”

“I was…” he curled in on himself tighter, wrapping his tentacles over and over themselves anxiously. “I was brought here to do it.”

“By who?”

He fidgeted, swaying softly under Carlos’ furious scrutiny. “I...I don’t know.”

“ _When_?”

He whined and flattened himself against the floor. “Since...since the beginning.”

Carlos stared at him silently for a moment, his eyes wide and fearful, before he groaned angrily and stormed towards the door. “I’m telling them. I’m telling the whole town about you and what you’ve been doing to them.”

“No!” Cecil cried, pressing himself against the door. “You can’t! They can’t know. I’m _supposed_ to do this!”

“You’re getting people killed and I won’t let it continue!” Carlos yelled, jabbing his finger at Cecil’s shivering form.

“But it has to be like this!” Cecil insisted, and it did. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew. He knew it with every fiber of his odd existence. He had been pulled into this world for a reason, and that reason had not lost significance after so much time. “ _Please_ try to understand that!”

But Carlos wasn’t interested in understanding. He was too busy picking the two-by-four back up and threateningly swinging it over his shoulder.

“Let me go,” he demanded. “Or I _will_ strike you.”

“But they’ll _kill me_ ,” Cecil pleaded, holding out tendrils in peace, in defense. He didn’t know which.

Carlos laughed, broken and hollow, before his face snapped back into an enraged snarl. “It’s no less than you deserve.”

Something inside Cecil, some unknown organ or entity, shattered painfully, and he slumped heavily against the door. “You...you don’t mean that.”

“You destroyed my life!” yelled Carlos as he held the two-by-four higher. “And I’ll gladly destroy yours.”

His arms were enveloped by Cecil’s body before he was able to swing the hunk of wood even an inch, and he yelped as his wrists were wrenched painfully, dropping the piece of wood as he struggled against the strain on his arms.

“Let go of me!” He shrieked, watching in horror as more of him was devoured by Cecil’s writhing mass, wrapping him up into some sort of horrifying cocoon.

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” Cecil responded, his voice pained with obvious crushing guilt. “I just...I can’t let you do that.”

Carlos tried to scream, but he was awash in Cecil’s body in an instant, left in a thick darkness that caressed him lovingly, trying to soothe him, lulling him to sleep. He awoke sometime later in an unfamiliar room full of blank and unfamiliar faces. The only audible sound was that of his own sobbing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end

The following week consisted of a lot of learning and even more confusion. Carlos didn’t take well to his new environment, though the break room _may_ have been the wrong place to put him. Cecil had thought Carlos would be able to talk to the interns, forgetting that they didn’t _really_ talk, and that Carlos was now completely aware of how they _did_ talk, so the violent reaction he had to a curly-haired girl striking up a conversation with him wasn’t entirely surprising. What _was_ somewhat surprising was how Carlos hated the sight of Cecil so much that he wouldn’t even let him clean up the body, or his labcoat. It was a shame; blood did not suit him.

But it was more than that, more than a bloodied corpse with a concave skull. Carlos didn’t let Cecil come near him for _anything_ , not food or water, and certainly not to talk to him. He’d had to remove all of the eating utensils almost immediately, forgetting that there had even _been_ knives and forks stashed in some of the drawers in the room, but not even that would deter him. Chairs had to be removed, coffee carafes, mugs, and Cecil would never forget the way Carlos stared at him the day he had to remove the table. Cecil would have been impressed with how easily the scientist could fashion a weapon if he wasn’t fearing for his safety every time he entered the room.

The day that he found himself being bludgeoned with a femur was the day he realized things had gone too far. He didn’t know exactly _how_ Carlos had gotten the makeshift club out of the dead intern, but it was obvious he was willing to claw away at it to get more if necessary. Cecil had already suffered enough abuses from Carlos; his eyes would have been considered blackened if his mass was light enough to show bruising, but the blood pooling in them was quite noticeable, and each new attack reduced his ability to see the next. He took away the dead intern, something he probably should have done immediately anyway. Carlos screamed at him, begged to be let go again, always. Always wanting to leave, to expose the monster in the radio station, to get him killed. Cecil didn’t know why he kept trying to reach him, and he knew even less why he couldn’t _stop_. Carlos didn’t love him, that much was painfully obvious, but Cecil couldn’t stop loving Carlos no matter how much pain it caused him, and it was causing him a lot of pain. But Carlos had accepted him once before, hadn’t he? So he could do it again...couldn’t he?

Cecil’s form undulated softly, something he understood to be a resigned sigh, something he’d been doing a lot of lately. He slithered down the decrepit halls towards the break room, carrying the food and water he dutifully brought his...un-boyfriend every day. He wished he didn’t have to, that it didn’t have to be like this. He wished Carlos could walk around the station and _live_ with him instead of just _exist_ with him. He paused at the door, already knowing what would happen when he opened it.

He’d be assaulted by something he hadn’t realized could be used as a weapon. Given Carlos’ escalation, it was likely it would be his own arm this time, torn from his body in an impressive display of rage and determination, and Cecil wouldn’t be able to help feeling a bit proud of him for it. He’d offer the food and water, and it would be knocked to the floor with a swing of the makeshift weapon. That was fine though, because Cecil had learned to put all of it in plastic containers so Carlos wouldn’t actually lose any of it, because he _would_ eventually eat it. Cecil had learned that very quickly when he went to clean up the messes from spilled plates and found there were no messes to be cleaned. Finally, Carlos would shout at him, threaten him, call him “monster” and “demon”, demand to be let go, to be free again. Free to tell the world about Cecil, about what he did to the townspeople’s minds, about where he was and what he was. Cecil would beg and plead. “You _know_ I can’t do that”, he’d say, and the makeshift weapon would strike him again. He’d wrest it away from Carlos somehow, doing his best to make sure he didn’t accidentally injure him, and leave even more brokenhearted than when he’d walked through the door. His heart, it seemed, was taking just as long to completely shatter as his body was.

He pushed aside the debris he used to keep the door shut tight and steeled himself as he entered the room, cringing in anticipation for the violent blow he was about to receive, but felt a gentle hand instead.

Cecil opened all of the eyes he’d been squeezing shut against the pain he’d expected, and found that Carlos was...he was _smiling_. He was smiling right at Cecil, and…and he was _touching him_. Cecil didn’t know what to do. Did he shy away? Was this a trick? Oh, he _really_ didn’t want this to be a trick. He gently snaked a slim tentacle around Carlos’ wrist, and he barely even flinched at the touch.

“C-carlos?” he said, hardly believing this was happening.

“Cecil, I’m glad to see you,” he responded, smiling almost imperceptibly wider.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I, well,” he furrowed his brow. “I wanted to apologize for how I treated you.”

Cecil’s mass loosened, spreading out and pressing happily into the touch, dropping the food containers on the floor as his form shuddered and warped pleasantly. “You did?”

He slid his hand over Cecil’s bruised flesh, touching each injury softly and, _oh_ , it just felt so good, so perfect to be caressed by Carlos after everything Cecil had suffered through. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have...well, I just didn’t want to see things from your perspective. I...think I understand how you felt now.”

Something inside Cecil shifted and groaned, filling him with the most unbelievable warmth, dozens of small tendrils began protruding eagerly from his form, and Carlos barely even grimaced. “Really?”

Carlos knelt down next to him, and Cecil couldn’t help recoiling. It was instinct by now, and he was incredibly relieved that Carlos didn’t seem upset by it. He took one of the newly grown tendrils in his hand and rubbed his thumb against it. Cecil warbled and shivered. It felt _really_ good. He couldn’t understand why. This had never happened before, he’d never been touched like this. He pressed against Carlos, wanting to feel more of it, and Carlos hummed thoughtfully at the display.

“You’re really enjoying that, aren’t you?” Carlos asked as he gently pulled another tendril into his other hand, running his fingertips along them. “It’s...pleasurable to you.”

Cecil let out a shuddering whine, his body shifting and warping, coiling sharply inside while the fleshy surface felt more pliant than ever, dozens more of the sensitive tendrils poking gingerly through the surface, reaching for something, anything, Carlos and his fingers. Carlos laughed, dark and seductive, and Cecil shivered all over, his skin rippling like gentle waves on the ocean, so sensitive to each touch, malleable under his caresses, and he whimpered softly as Carlos’ hands pressed inwards.

Carlos grunted in shock, not expecting to be absorbed like that, or perhaps remembering what happened the last time he had been absorbed, but Cecil reached out with so many tendrils, stroking his face and hair. This time was different, he knew. He didn’t know much--he’d never experienced this before--but this, at least, he knew. Carlos anxiously tugged his hands free, checking them over for injury, but they were fine, he was fine. Cecil chirped happily and twined himself around his fingers, each probing appendage wanting its chance to be touched. Carlos pulled his undulating mass closer, and Cecil immediately expanded in what he assumed was an approximation of gasping. Carlos grinned, and it was wonderful, like a predator that had finally caught its prey. He squeezed a tendril between two fingers before pulling it to his lips and running his tongue along it.

Cecil squealed, both at the searing heat that spread through him, relaxing every inch of his quivering mass, and at the sudden realization that he lived in a dusty old radio station and couldn’t _possibly_ taste very pleasant. Carlos didn’t seem to mind though, sucking gently at the tip, and Cecil squirmed happily in his lap, his form becoming more and more languid by the second, pooling between Carlos’ legs, melting against his chest and over his shoulders.

“C-carlos,” he whined, pressing himself closer to the scientist, wrapping his tendrils around his arms and waist. “It feels good.”

“Does it?” Carlos asked, his voice surprisingly steady for how much he was causing Cecil to quite literally come undone. “How wonderful that must be for you.”

The pain was immediate and piercing, something sharp wedged deeply into his abnormally soft flesh, slicing through masses Cecil never knew he had. He shrieked and recoiled, but Carlos held him, driving the thorn deeper.

“I _don’t_ feel wonderful, Cecil,” he hissed. “Touching a disgusting monster will do that to you, you know.”

Cecil screamed as the heat that had been filling him drained with the fluids gushing from his underside. He grasped at Carlos’ hand, the sensitive tendrils sending painful shocks through his body, and wrenched it free, twisting his wrist until he dropped the weapon. It was black and smoldering, just like Carlos’ hands, but it was still recognizable as a rib, crudely sharpened by some unknown means over some unknown amount of time, and Cecil wailed. Carlos had wanted to hurt him so badly that he painstakingly sanded away at it, gotten so close to something he hated and feared, and burned his hands on Cecil’s blood.

Cecil curled in on himself, screaming miserably. “ _Why_?”

Carlos smiled, and it was terrible, like a predator that had finally, finally caught its prey. “Now we’ve both had our hearts destroyed by an intern.”

He stood and left, black blood soaked through his labcoat and shoes, and Cecil could do nothing but bleed and watch him go. He wailed, shaking the rotting walls of the building with his anguish, dragging his broken form through the halls after him, but Carlos was gone, his tires squealing as he peeled out of the parking lot. He’d failed, he’d failed so _spectacularly_ , and they would come for him now. They would find him, beaten and pitiful, laying in a pool of his own blood. They would hate him, just like Carlos, and they would hurt him, just like Carlos.

He could practically hear them now, like hundreds of angry voices in his mind. Some sort of backlash after years of being inside theirs.

They were coming for him.


End file.
